Kisses Like Wine
by Moonraykir
Summary: When their wine cellar escape route takes the Company past a trio of tipsy and slumbering elves—including one pretty guard captain—Kíli gets an unexpected chance to bid Tauriel farewell.
1. Kíli

On the twenty-eighth day of their captivity in Mirkwood, when Bilbo appeared like magic with a wink and the key to his cell, Kíli was elated.

An extended stay in prison was not at all something Kíli had envisioned as part of their heroic quest. The experience had been all the more frustrating since they were now close enough to the Mountain that even Kíli, who had never been to Erebor in his life, could feel its nearness through the soles of his feet. Oh, it was time and past time that they were on their way again.

Still, as he followed Bilbo to the cells of his companions, Kíli could not suppress a feeling of regret nearly as strong as his excitement. Leaving meant not seeing _her_ again, not for a long while, at least.

What had begun as a lighthearted flirtation meant to pass the time of his monotonous captivity had led to feelings of unexpected (and slightly alarming, if he considered what his uncle would say) fondness for the red-haired elf captain with her sweet eyes and even sweeter laugh. And though Tauriel's feelings were sometimes a challenge to guess thanks to her reserved elvish manners, he had reason to believe she felt an answering warmth for him. She visited him more often than her duties possibly could have required, and lately, there had been that soft, eager smile on her face each time he moved to the door to greet her.

Kíli certainly did not mean his time in Mirkwood to be the last he ever saw of Tauriel. After Thorin's victorious homecoming, there would eventually be need of alliances, and as a prince, Kíli would make an ideal ambassador to the Woodland Realm. But the time for such negotiations was surely months, if not years, away. He wished he could at least tell Tauriel goodbye for now.

After Bilbo had locked the empty cell behind the last dwarf, he led them all away from the prisons and deeper into the Elvenking's palace itself. This was an odd escape route, Kíli mused. He'd not have thought going further in would be the way out, but surely Bilbo had learned the layout of the palace well in the month they'd all been here.

Yet as they passed a door that led to what appeared to be a larder, Kíli began to wonder if even their canny burglar had lost his way. And this room they were entering now was some sort of wine cellar. Bottles and casks of wine, mead, cider, and spirits were stacked floor to ceiling.

Kíli was just drawing a breath to ask their hobbit, who was only a pace or two ahead of him, why they'd come here when they rounded a wine rack and he found himself facing three elves seated round a table.

"Dammit, not—" Kíli got out before Bilbo turned and clapped a hand on his dwarven friend's mouth. The hobbit gave an expressive stare and a shake of the head.

Glancing back to the elves, Kíli now saw that they were all asleep, two of them propped in their high-backed chairs, and the third slumped forward over the table, which was littered with empty bottles and half-drained flagons. Ah. Asleep _and_ inebriated it seemed. Kíli nearly laughed aloud in his surprise and relief. So elves really could get drunk, thank Mahal.

The hobbit beckoned him on, and Kíli crept forward as silently as he could in his heavy boots. He wasn't taking any chances on keen elvish senses, even if the elves in question were well and truly sauced. Still he couldn't help sneaking one last amused look as he passed the table, and then he froze so that Óin nearly tripped over him.

He couldn't see the face of the elf with her head resting on the table, but he recognized that fiery hair spilling over her shoulders. Tauriel?

"Move on, laddie," Óin whispered loudly.

Wrenching his eyes from Tauriel's lovely figure, Kíli followed Bilbo down a short stair into a lower cellar. Down here was a row of empty barrels and as more dwarves arrived, Bilbo began gesturing for them to get inside. Kíli lingered at the back of the room near the stairs, only half paying attention to the growing incredulity with which Bilbo's instructions were met by the rest of the Company.

He tried to tell himself it was unreasonable to be disappointed that he hadn't been able to do more than steal a quick last glance at Tauriel's back. Of course he didn't want to jeopardize their escape by lingering. And what sort of goodbye was it if she didn't know he'd even been there? But he would have liked one more moment for… Well, he wasn't sure.

"I'm not a pickled herring 'n' you can't treat me like one!" Glóin's growl cut through Kili's thoughts.

"Oh, for the love of—" Thorin muttered at Kíli's side, and then the young dwarf felt a hand on his shoulder. "Kíli, go to the top of the stair while I handle this. If any of those elves so much as twitches an ear, you come back and warn us."

"Aye, Uncle," he returned, his annoyance of a moment before instantly melting at his sudden good luck.

Kíli found the elves just as he'd left them. To his relief, the barely hushed argument taking place below them did not carry up here; the swish of the river (which must flow just below the lower cellar) was all he could hear.

After a half minute, Kíli crept forward a few steps and then a few more. He would go just far enough look in her face…

Yet somehow between the angle of the wine rack and the position of her chair, he was within three paces of her before he could see past her shoulder. And then he found that, by some strange perversity, a wave of her hair had slipped down and obscured all but the tip of her nose and the corner of her mouth.

Breath held, Kíli slipped his fingers beneath that coppery curtain and ever so gently eased it back from her face. As he tucked it behind her shoulder, she stirred just barely and gave a soft hum.

Kíli froze, his heart thudding loud in his ears. _Maker, please, don't let her—_

Tauriel's lashes lifted and her green eyes met his own.

His stomach dropped. Thorin was going to murder him.

The elf watched him over the pillow of her arm. "Kíli?" she murmured at last, her voice lower, more husky than he'd ever heard it.

"I—" He gulped a breath. "I came to tell you goodbye." He might as well say it, since there was no secret to be kept now that he'd betrayed everything. What had he been thinking, trying to see her?

"Goodbye?" Her auburn brows narrowed, and she lifted her head at last. "Where are you going?"

She stared, her expression clearly perplexed and even—dare he say it?—a little disappointed.

"Where? Um…" His mind raced as fast as his heart. She hadn't asked what he was doing here. She hadn't leapt up to seize him and take him back to his cell. Could it be she was dreaming?

"Nowhere," he finished softly. He must not wake the other elves. They would be sure to recognize him as an escaped prisoner, even if she did not. "I'll see you tomorrow. Just… Good night, Tauriel." It was such an intimate phrase, one he hoped he might get to say again to her one day.

"Kíli, wait." Tauriel caught him as he stepped back from her. "Don't. I—" She faltered, lips parted over words she could not find. Her high cheeks, already flushed from drink, colored more deeply, and her rich emerald eyes were fixed earnestly on his.

Oh, it was not fair of her to be so lovely; not fair because her beauty was like an arrow through the heart, leaving Kíli empty, broken with need for her; not fair because how could he help falling in love with her; not fair because he was only a dwarf and could never hope to inspire half—

Tauriel's hands moved to his collar. "Kiss me," she whispered, that low, rough note returning to her voice, and Kíli knew this was a plea, not an order.

Her mouth was sweet with wine, and she gave herself in long, full drafts as heady as any true vintage. Her eager hands clung in his shirt, his hair, and her hair fell down against him. He could smell the faint, woodsy spice of it as it brushed his face. Somehow, his arms found their way around her; his palms pressed against the warm brushed suede of her bodice while his fingers tangled in more of her silken locks.

When they broke off, Tauriel remained leaning against him. Her eyes had drifted closed once more and there was a sleepy smile on her lips.

"This is the nicest dream I've ever had," Kíli murmured against her ear.

"Mmm…is it a dream?"

"Yes. You're asleep now, see?" As thrilled as he was by her kiss, he was deeply relieved to find her drifting back into slumber. He knew how dangerously close he was to disaster, even now.

She nestled closer against his shoulder. "Kíli…"

"Good night, _amrâlimê_ ," he said. He thought Tauriel smiled.

He waited a few more moments for her breathing to return to a slow, easy rhythm. Then he eased her back onto the table top. Thank Mahal and all the Valar that that elvish wine was strong, he thought as he shifted a flagon to make a space for her to lie without cramping her neck. If she had been any more sober just now— Well, she would not have kissed him, for one thing. He grinned, remembering the taste of her lips. Would she recall any of this tomorrow? Oh, he hoped so.

Kíli turned and then nearly rattled the table as he jumped in surprise. There was the hobbit standing right at his elbow.

"Hers," Bilbo mouthed, holding aloft a ring of keys, which he then slipped onto Tauriel's belt loop where Kíli had seen it before. The young dwarf hoped she would not be reprimanded too severely when her prisoners were all discovered missing the next morn.

As Kíli followed Bilbo down the stairs, he ventured, "How much of that did you see just now?"

"Oh, quite enough." Bilbo's anxious expression warmed to a boyish grin that was pleased and perhaps ever-so-slightly conspiratorial. "I've seen quite enough of you both, indeed."


	2. Tauriel

She was not supposed to feel this. Not for a dwarf.

If there was anyone who should have made Tauriel's heart leap and left her smiling giddily to herself once she was safely out of his sight, it should have been Legolas. She knew he would have liked to have that effect on her. And really, why shouldn't she have been attracted to him? He was a prince. He was handsome. After a glass or two of wine, he even had a very sharp sense of humor.

And yet he had never made her feel so fluttering and bright and alive as Kíli could when he smiled up at her with those melting brown eyes shaded by tousled raven bangs.

That explained it, she told herself: she always had preferred men with dark coloring like his. Add that to the fact that of the dwarves, he _was_ the youngest and the tallest and the least heavily-bearded—

Sacred stars, tonight as they talked, she had even caught herself wondering how it would be to kiss him! Would she feel the prickle of his beard against her lips? Or perhaps if he kissed her very gently, she would not feel his stubble at all.

"Tauriel!"

She started from her reverie, clutching at a nearby pillar to regain her balance on this winding stair.

Pengolod, the king's wine steward, laughed. "You're jumpy as the fox in the henhouse! The extra patrols have you on edge?"

"Yes," she answered, hoping her cheeks were not too red.

The steward nodded. "And then I know you never go off duty till you've checked the king's prisoners. You work too hard. Unless you're trying to win someone's favor?" He winked at her.

"Um," she spluttered, her cheeks flaring for certain now. How did he know about her friendship with Kíli? Then she realized he must mean Legolas. Not the dwarf.

Pengolod gave her a reassuring smile. "He knows your worth, I'm sure of it. Now, you can help me, if you like. I got a new shipment of wine today, and I need a second opinion before I approve it for the king's table."

"A glass of wine would be most welcome," she said, only a little breathless.

Tauriel had always liked it down in the cellars. With bottles and casks stacked floor to ceiling, it always felt like some strange treasure vault. And the rich liquids stored here truly did represent a not inconsiderable portion of the Elvenking's wealth. These wines, meads, and brandies were all of the highest quality.

Tauriel seated herself at a table tucked between two towering racks of wine, bottles peeping like so many glassy eyes out of their straw-lined nooks. Pengolod set out three crystal goblets—they had met Amlach on their way here—and then filled each from a decanter.

"The most recent vintage from Sunspring." He pushed a glass towards each of his companions. "I think it's almost better than last year's."

Tauriel lifted her glass to the light. The wine was thick and dark, a ruby with blackness in its depths. "Should this be mixed with water?" she asked.

Pengolod nodded over a mouthful. "But you should taste it on its own, first."

Tauriel put her nose to the mouth of the goblet and inhaled berry, cloves, a hint of rose. "Oh, this is lovely," she murmured.

It was warm and rich, the first sweet wave of blackberry giving way, before it could be cloying, to a sharp, oaky spice that bit at her tongue and left her mouth watering.

"Magical," Amlach hummed beside her. "This is easily the best wine we've ever had from Sunspring."

Pengolod was nodding again, expressively. "The 2930 was an especially good year, but this could rival it."

Tauriel took another sip, letting the wine pool down about her tongue. It reminded her of jam and summer days, sun-warmed berries kissing her lips—or maybe _his_ warm mouth… Kíli's lips would be sweet, they had to be, with a smile like that—

Valar, what was she thinking? She gulped down the rest of the wine and set the empty glass back on the table.

"You'll have to tell me how effective it is at chasing lovers from your thoughts," Pengolod said with a teasing smile as he refilled her glass.

"Oh, I don't think I've drunk enough yet for that," she said lightly, though in truth she could feel a warm glow already spreading through her limbs. This wine really was too potent to drink unmixed. Yet she needed something strong to drive these most inappropriate thoughts of a dwarf from her head. "But for the sake of the experiment, I will let you know if I forget the name of the admirer who called me a heartless vixen because I returned his love poems. No, the real trial is whether I can forget the poetry!" She pulled a face and swallowed another mouthful of wine.

In point of fact, it took more than two glasses, yet less than three, to drown out any unpleasant recollections of suitors, both the poetically inclined and the vertically challenged. No, when it came to Kíli, she now found absolutely nothing unwelcome to her mind. He was unfairly handsome, perhaps, she thought as her chin slipped off her hand for the second time. But why shouldn't she allow herself to feel attracted to someone?

Dwarf or no, Kíli was appealing. His clean, noble features were roughened but not obscured by his light beard. And his raven-dark hair—no elf would have denied its beauty. But he was stronger than any elf she knew: he had such broad shoulders and muscular forearms, which were tanned from the sun and further darkened by a most intriguing fringe of hair down the backs. Ah, would it not feel lovely to be wrapped in his strong embrace…

The thought made her slightly giddy, enough that the next time her chin slipped from her hand, she decided it safest to rest her head against the table. Her companions did not seem to be bothered; for a time she heard Pengolod and Amlach's murmured conversation going on without her. Then even their voices fell silent, and Tauriel was left to her dreams.

Some time later—she could not say how long—she felt something brush her cheek. Tauriel shifted and saw Kíli himself staring at her.

For several heartbeats, she wanted nothing more than to take in the sweetness of his face. Valar! the expressive sweep of his brows, the full fringe of his lashes might have flowed from a painter's brush.

"Kíli," she murmured, and her tongue still felt heavy with wine.

"I came to tell you goodbye," he said.

"Goodbye? Where are you going?"

"Where? Um…" His dark eyes searched hers in confusion. Then his face cleared somewhat. "Nowhere. I'll see you tomorrow. Just… Good night, Tauriel." At the tenderness in these last words, she felt the twinge of some sharp, undefinable emotion.

He took a step back.

"Kíli, wait." Somehow, her hand had grasped his collar. "Don't. I—" She wasn't sure what she wanted. But oh, she _was_. She wanted Kíli, wanted him to be more than just a sweet smile forever divided from her by prison bars.

"Kiss me," she said.

He did, clasping her waist and leaning hard against her just to keep them both upright. It seemed she had not been the only one dying for this: Kíli's lips parted for her, thirsty and eager, his warm mouth lingering, tasting, savoring. Moon and stars, after such a kiss, she would never ask again for wine. Even tonight's rare vintage was nothing to the taste of him: the sweetness of his lips, the full pressure of his tongue, the bite of his stubble…

"This is the nicest dream I've ever had," Kíli said, his deep voice resonating in her own chest.

Tauriel stirred and discovered that somehow her head had found its way to Kili's shoulder. "Is it a dream?" she asked. But of course it must be. She never would have dared to kiss him, otherwise.

His fingers combed through her hair. "Yes. You're asleep now, see?"

She snuggled closer to him. "Kíli." His hair tickled her face, and when she inhaled, she smelled leather and musk. Tauriel relaxed, perfectly content.

Kíli murmured something, a word she did not understand but which sounded sweet nonetheless…

. . .

Someone was calling her name, shaking her shoulder. Tauriel moaned softly and opened her eyes to empty goblets. What in the name of—? Right. Pengolod and his wine. She sat up, tucking hair back from her face.

"Tauriel!" Beleg's voice was still urgent, far more so than seemed warranted by her little off-duty indulgence. "The prisoners are gone!"

"What?" She put a hand to her belt, and keys clanked under her palm. "I didn't authorize—"

"No one did!" Beleg's eyes were wide in astonishment. "The cells are all locked. The prisoners are just _not there_."

"Have you checked with Legolas? He has the only other set of keys," Tauriel snapped. She had done nothing wrong, yet it was awkward to be found in this somewhat vulnerable position by one of her subordinates. Beside her, Pengolod and Amlach were stirring groggily. "The prince must have had the prisoners moved. It's not as if thirteen dwarves could simply have magicked their way out—"

Kíli's wistful face, as he told her goodbye, appeared before her mind's eye. He had been here; it wasn't just a dream.

Tauriel cursed. "They must have escaped through the cellars."

Beleg stared at her.

"Through the river door!" she nearly shouted. "Don't just stand there; call the guard out after them."

Beleg saluted, then ran off to obey. Tauriel sighed and rubbed her temple as more impressions surfaced through the soft fog in her head. She remembered Kíli's brown eyes so close to her own, his hands about her waist, his cheek rough against her skin—

"Oh!" she cried inadvertently, pressing a hand to her lips. Valar, she really had kissed him. And oh Valar! he had most definitely kissed her.

"Tauriel?" Pengolod said. "Are you well? I'm sorry; I should have watered the second glass." There was sympathy, but no suspicion, in his look.

She laughed at him, suddenly exultant, though she knew she had no right to be when her thirteen prisoners had all escaped. "No, the wine was perfect," she said. "Now please excuse me; I've some dwarves to reclaim." She offered Pengolod a curt, military bow and then bounded up the cellar stairs, two at a time.


End file.
